A Nation At Risk
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: Written for a prompt at a livejournal community. England spends an evening playing a game with America. Later that night, America lets slip something he didn't want England to hear. The next day America wants to hear three little words from England.
1. Chapter 1

_(Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters at all. I also only own a computer game version of Risk.)_

It had been a long, hard struggle but he had finally done it. England had finally managed to (re)conquer the North American continent. Pleased with himself, he sat back in his seat, momentarily forgetting about how thin his troops were spread. An amused laugh reached his ears, and he sat straighter, confused about the cocky grin he saw on his opponent.

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" His enemy said, and though England knew he was trying to sound intimidating, the younger man failed when he let out a happy chuckle instead of an 'I'm about to kick your ass' "Ha." Never-the-less, England looked at the table in front of them, his lack of troops finally clicking in his mind. In his blind desperation to claim what he could no longer have, his men had been stretched thin, too thin. _Damn it. I'm not strong enough. But there's just no way in hell I'm going to lose him again, not after trying so hard._

Unfortunately, luck was on his opponent's, _America's_ his mind traitorously reminded him, side. England threw his dice with more force than was really necessary, but the younger man kept winning, and before England knew it, the North American continent was once again no longer his. Letting out a frustrated sigh, England was determined not to look America in the eye, but a shout of triumph piqued his curiosity and he looked up at America who was sitting with a stupid grin on his face.

"That's game, old man. Once again, the hero has prevailed! What is this? Five games to zero? What happened to that imperialistic attitude of yours?" England glared at America and was about to argue that no, he still had Great Britain and Western Europe (ha, take that you wine bastard!), but when he looked at the board again, he found that his forces had been completely wiped out when he wasn't paying attention, and Europe, including _his_ country, was now _America's_.

"Bloody hell," England muttered, having long since tuned out America's "I'm a winner and a hero" speech. "When did he manage to do that? Sneaky git." Sighing, he pushed away from the table, annoyed to see that America was _still_ going on. "America." No response. "America." Ignored again.

Grumbling still, England stood up and walked over to where America was sitting. The younger man still hadn't noticed he'd moved. Quickly, England leaned down and kissed the top of America's head, shutting him up instantly. "Eng—" He was cut off when England smacked him upside the head.

Smirking at the resulting yelp, England leaned in to whisper in his once colony's ear. "America, shut the bloody hell up about winning. This is why no one likes to play games with you," He said quietly, his smirk growing at the flush that was slowly marking America's face.

Pulling away with a chuckle, England glanced at his watch before walking to retrieve his coat from his chair. "I've had enough of Risk and it's getting late. I'm going home, America," He said while pulling on his coat. As he started to walk away, he felt a tug on his arm, causing him to stop and turn around at the still-red American latched onto his arm.

"Don't go, Iggy. Come on, we can play another game and-and you can choose! And when I kick your ass, I promise not to brag. Please, stay." England opened his mouth to decline, ready to insist that his boss really needed him, but something about the puppy dog eyes that America was giving him made him give a resigned sigh.

"I guess there's time for another game," He said slowly, tugging his arm out of America's grasp so as to remove his coat. And, when he saw America's sunny grin, England couldn't help but give him a small smile in return. _Bloody git. Every time I try to get away, he always manages to bring me back._


	2. Chapter 2

_(I apologize to the reader I messaged after Chapter One about there being no continuation. This just wrote itself. It's based on the same prompt as Chapter One, and I still don't own Hetalia)._

America smiled at the sleeping form of England on his couch. The older Nation had wanted to end game night early, yet here he was, spending the night—albeit accidentally as neither Nation had expected him to fall asleep during Pictionary. As America picked up his sleeping guest and carried him to one of the extra rooms, he figured that England had been more tired than he'd let on.

"I guess I shouldn't have talked him into staying," America mused as he placed England on the bed and draped a blanket over him. "But I hate the feeling I get when he leaves," He added quietly before leaning forward to give the older Nation a kiss on the forehead. "Good night." When he turned to leave, however, he felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him back towards the bed.

America looked questioningly at England who, as far as he could tell, was still asleep. The more America tried to leave, the more he was pulled back and so, with a shrug, America sat tentatively on the edge of the bed until a sharp tug on his arm resulted in him more or less lying down. "If you hate it when I leave, then why are you in such a hurry to leave?" England muttered, still looking as if he were asleep.

"You heard that?"

"Hm." The light snoring told America that the older Nation had drifted off again. Sighing, America carefully tried to find a more comfortable position, finally satisfied when he found himself holding a surprisingly unresisting England, and smiled into the back of the head of the other Nation. The light snoring continued, and America felt the sudden need to confess what he had come to realize, not caring that the other was sleep and wouldn't hear—or maybe that's why he found the courage to say what he did.

"I'm not that strong, you know," He said quietly into England's hair. "I love being a hero, but everyone has a limit, even me. Those times I couldn't," he paused, listening, making sure the other was still asleep, "Those times I couldn't be near you were, and still are, the hardest. I hate when you leave because I'm weak. I can't bear the thought of losing you again." America stopped suddenly when he realized that the light snoring had been replaced with quiet laughter. His eyes widened in the realization that England had heard every word, that he had just been feigning being asleep. He tried to relinquish his hold on the smaller Nation, but England only leaned further back, not letting America break his hold.

"You're an idiot," England said after a moment, his laughter gone and ignoring the red flush of embarrassment, and possibly a touch of anger, on America's face. "You aren't going to lose me again. I'm here, aren't I?" He stopped, another laugh forcing its way out of his throat. "I'm still here. For some God forsaken reason I keep coming back, don't I? If you're going to lament about something, lament about my missing sanity. Now," He tilted his head back, kissing America on the chin, "Go to sleep. It's too early in the morning to have any sort of serious conversation." America nodded, a smile replacing his previous expression of surprise, but the older Nation had already turned away.

"Good night, England," America said again after a moment, snuggling closer to the Nation.

"Good night, America," England snapped in reply, those three words telling America that he had better be asleep in the next few minutes or else. America let out a small laugh as he laid his head on his pillow. He was looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning came, but anytime America tried to talk about the previous night, England would find some way to change the topic. Around lunchtime, America had finally had enough.

"For Pete's sakes, England, why can't we talk about last night?"

England merely looked at him, one prominent eyebrow raised as he took a sip of tea. America made no sign of understanding, and, with a resigned sigh, England placed his teacup on the table, using his newly freed right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off a headache. "Because, America, what was said last night was only said when you thought I was asleep. Therefore it must be an embarrassing topic, and it need not be brought up again."

"But England—"

"No, America." The older Nation picked up his teacup again, proud of himself for holding back another sigh. America was not to be dismayed, however, because the next thing England knew, the table had been moved, there were hands around his, and he was looking into a pair of bright blue eyes. "Ame—"

"I love you, England," America said, slowly and clearly. England stared at him in shock. Sure, he had gathered as much the night before, but he hadn't expected America to come right out and confess. So, with all the grace he could muster, England turned away and muttered, "Thank you."

This time, it was America who was surprised, and even a touch angry. The anger dissipated, though, when England's actions and words the previous night came to mind, and that, combined with the Nation's current blush, told him the truth. "And you love me, too, don't you?"

At that, the startled England brought his gaze back to America, who was still much too close and was grinning in a ridiculous way. "I…care about you, yes."

"You do more than care. You love me~ Admit it." America had that grin on his face that he only gets when he knows he's right.

"What makes you say that?" England asked quietly, turning away again, willing his blush to go away.

America let out a growl in frustration. "I just know, ok? Why won't you just admit it?"

England, finally getting his blush under control, smirked at America. "If you know, and I know, then why must I say it?"

"Because-because I said it! And you said thank you! Come on, England, it's just three little words and you know it's not a lie!" America was getting frustrated, and England chuckled.

"You want me to say it?"

"Yes!"

"No."

"Please, England?"

"No, America."

"Come on! Just this once?" America was getting frustrated, England noted with a smile.

"Just this once?"

"Yes."

"Only this one time?"

"Yes, England. Just one time. Please?"

"Well, al—alright, then. Just this once. I…love you," He said quietly and then, without thinking about the consequences of his next action, England kissed America. The younger Nation paused in surprise for a brief second before responding.

The Nations pulled apart, and America had that knowing grin on his face again. "I knew you loved me. Was it really so hard to admit?"

"Oh, shut up," England snapped before picking up his tea cup.

America took a seat next to England on the couch, taking the older Nation's free hand in his. "I'll do anything you say," America quipped, making England smile again. The younger Nation snuggled against England, and was for once, silent. Over the next hour, they sat quietly, enjoying the other's presence. Though not a word was said, though neither one made any unnecessary movements, England felt inexplicably happy by just having America there.

Nothing lasts forever, though, and after an hour of silence, America decided that it was time to go _do_ something, and dragged England along behind him. But, England was still fine with that. Of course, that didn't stop him from grumbling at America since he didn't get to finish his tea, after all.


End file.
